


time to leave and turn to dust

by synchronicities



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Countdown fic, Dad!Bellamy, F/M, Post-2x16, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3646149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synchronicities/pseuds/synchronicities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin is gone for six months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	time to leave and turn to dust

(180)

Bellamy catches Jasper's gaze when swinging by the med bay to pick something up for Raven. Jasper's sitting alone on one of the waiting chairs, waiting for Jackson to call his name. It's brief, but Bellamy recognizes the cold anger in the other boy's eyes where there had been desperate hope and faith a day ago. Jasper's brow furrows, and he stares hatefully at the floor. Someone says, “Bellamy,” and he looks past him and sees Monty sitting two rows behind him. His heart breaks a little then, and he moves forward, brushing past Jasper.

“You okay?”

Monty grimaces and his fingers ghost over his leg. Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “I will be,” he manages softly. “Not banged up too bad. I mean – there are people who're worse.” He looks at Bellamy. “You?”

Despite himself, Bellamy brings himself to chuckle. “I've seen better. I’m here getting Raven’s painkillers, though.”

A half-smile appears on Monty's face, but it disappears just as quickly. “Hey, uh – can I ask you something?”

He nods. “Shoot.”

Monty briefly looks around like he's discussing a secret. His voice drops. “Where's Finn?” Out of the corner of his eye, Bellamy sees Jasper tense. His chest twists, and it's all he can do to not think of Clarke's shaking hands, her pursed lips, _I can't lose you too_ – “Bellamy?”

“Finn's dead.” It comes off colder than Bellamy intended, but he says it loud enough so Jasper can hear. “Clarke killed him.” Jasper's hands ball into fists. They had been close, Bellamy remembers, had shared jokes over moonshine and laughter in the daylight. Bellamy recalls Finn’s face for the first time in a long time, sees his charming grin, Maya’s reserved smile, Atom’s calm mien, Roma’s long hair, Myles’s gangly arms, Sterling’s clear eyes, Charlotte’s faraway gaze, Wells’s steady hands. They have lost so much.

Monty frowns and closes his eyes. “I see.”

Words bubble up in Bellamy's throat, and his hands itch with the longing to grab Jasper's shoulders and tell him about everything – the look in Finn's eyes, the Grounder boy hitting the earth, Lexa's matter-of-fact demands, Clarke's quiet panic, Raven screaming across the camp. But all that comes out is, “She did what she had to do.” A pause. “It was the right thing.” He remembers her face as he'd told her that, sadness and quiet relief, and pushes it to the back of his head.

Jasper stands so quickly that the plastic chairs jolt backwards. Bellamy's head shoots up fast enough to see him stalk out of the med bay, his shoulders shaking. Monty watches him leave.

After a while, Monty says, very quietly, “She's gone, isn't she?”

Bellamy doesn't even need to ask who he's talking about. His cheek burns where her lips had made contact, and he sees her walking away, remembers turning away so he wouldn’t see the forest swallow her. “Yeah.”

“She'll be back, right?” Monty's not looking at him. He thinks of the sadness and determination in her voice – _may we meet again_.

Bellamy can't bring himself to lie. “I hope so.”

 (179)

He walks into Abby’s office, his legs feeling like lead with every step. He wonders how the conversation will go, imagines shrinking back while Abby snaps at him -- _where’s my daughter, why did you let her leave, why didn’t you try and stop her_ \--

But what he finds is Kane by Abby’s bedside, their voices hushed and their fingers intertwined. He clears his throat. “Chancellor.”

Abby turns her head towards him. “Bellamy,” she says, and her voice is softer and more tired than he’s ever heard it, “I never got a chance to thank you. For what you did inside Mount Weather. It was dangerous, and you came through --”

He bows his head a little. “It was worth the risk.”

Abby only nods. She understands, now, what she would have gone through had her daughter not steeled herself like she did. And then, very calmly: “It’s not like Clarke to go like she did.” He can hear the implication in her voice and can feel it in her wary gaze -- that Bellamy had something to do with it. But there’s also a tiredness that wasn’t there before, and the realization that her daughter would never be someone she could control.

“I’m sending a team after her.” At that Bellamy looks up. Kane’s appraising him. “Am I correct in thinking you’d be on it?”

For a moment, Bellamy is tempted. Clarke only has a day’s lead and left with no supplies; with a competent tracker they should be able to catch up with her. There’s a part of him that wants that, already misses the shock of golden hair and the calloused fingers on his back. But the part of him, the part that knows she needs space and time, takes over, and he shakes his head. “If you don’t mind, Chancellor,” he says, “I’d rather not go on any team excursions for a while.”

Kane nods. “That’s fine.” He’s looking at Bellamy with some sort of great interest, something that would never have been present on the Ark. _You did good_ . “But if you have _any_ idea where she would be going, anything at all -- by all means, tell us.”

 _I don’t know_ , she had said. But Bellamy has a few good ideas -- Finn’s bunker, the Dropship, Tondc, Mount Weather. He imagines Clarke standing alone at each one, soaking in the death and destruction left behind, and it leaves him with a hollow ache. “I don’t know,” he repeats.

"Bellamy --”

Kane squeezes Abby’s hand. “Thank you, Bellamy,” he interrupts, ignoring Abby’s hard glare. “That will be all.”

 (155)

 The searches keep turning up empty-handed, and three weeks later Kane and Abby dissolve the search parties. If Clarke wanted to be found, Kane reasons, they would have found _something_ by now, and by now she has practically a month’s lead. “She will come back when she sees fit,” Abby adds, her eyes despondent. She glares at Raven, Bellamy, Monty, and Octavia as if they dare challenge this assumption, and dismisses the four of them. Bellamy can see the tightness of their jaws and the frustration in their gazes. Bellamy thinks of Wells and Finn, who would be there if they could, then of Jasper, who isn’t, but there are more important things to do today.

(They do, however, find Lincoln, and if Bellamy’s heart constricts at the site of Octavia tearfully running towards him, he doesn’t say anything.)

Raven seethes at the prospect of meeting Lexa. Bellamy knows that the Mount Weather events have stalled her anger’s festering or perhaps allowed it to be rerouted to Clarke, but a month of reeling and recovery have allowed it all to return in full force. He catches her eye several times over the course of the day, but she tears her gaze away, her mouth twisted in a hard line.

When the time comes to meet the Commander, Bellamy is standing behind Kane. Lexa emerges from the forest surrounded by her guard, her mien impeccable and her gaze impassive. Bellamy inhales through his nose and forces himself to meet her gaze across the cleaning. She’s beautiful and probably younger than him, and for a second he thinks her stoniness wavers when she looks at him, revealing someone more vulnerable and wounded. But it’s gone the second it appears, and Lexa looks behind him, her face flawless once more.

He hears Wick shouting from the back. There’s a flurry of movement in the crowd, and eventually Raven jostles her way to the front, dragging her bum leg behind her. The glare she levels at Lexa is positively murderous, but the commander meets it with a stare of benevolent grace. Bellamy grips her wrist, his fingernails carving half-moons in her skin. The gesture feels familiar, and he winces. He meets Raven’s gaze. _Don’t_. Her nostrils flare and her brows furrow and her arm feels taut with rebellion, but she absconds, deciding to stay next to him instead.

Lexa speaks. She gives a grandiose speech about the fruitful partnership between the Sky People and the Trikru, and of Clarke Griffin, she who defeated the Mountain Men in one fell swoop. If her voice wavers, Bellamy doesn’t catch it -- he’s vaguely aware of Kane’s shoulders tensing, Abby frowning, and the scattered members of the 100 looking angry. Lexa gestures behind her, and Grounders come from the forest dragging dozens of sacks. A few open them and show them to the camp -- they’re full of grain, meat, and fruit. “Our gift to you,” she says, her lip curling. “In thanks for the defeat of a common enemy.” Bellamy feels hazy relief -- it’s enough to last them several months. On top of the supplies from Mount Weather, they’re set through the winter, and it fills him with relief. But at the same time, he hears Lexa’s voice ringing in his head -- _love is a weakness_.

“ _Bellamy_.” Raven’s voice, hushed but sharp and clear. “Let’s get out of here.”

Bellamy nods. They wait until the crowd begins to dissipate before they slip away into the Ark. Raven steals a bottle of moonshine from the kitchens before she stalks towards her quarters. He almost doesn’t follow her, but she gestures towards her door with her head. She sits down on her bed and pats next to her. He sits. She pours two glasses of moonshine and hands one to him. “I never wanted to see her again,” she says, her voice half a whine. “Everything -- it just came back.”

“You handed yourself pretty well out there,” he says. “Good job not killing her or anything.”

Raven dips her head, takes a sip. “I wanted to then and I wanted to today, though. Clarke stopped me the first time.” She looks meaningfully at him. “I spent so long resenting her. How she took him from me. She was easier to hate than Lexa.”

Bellamy is silent, remembers Clarke’s bloodstained hands, and feels the familiar dull ache in his gut. “Wasn’t her, though. Wasn’t really Lexa, either.” Finn had gone down that road himself, and it hurts to think how they’d tried to protect him, and all for naught.

She sighs. “I know. Thanks, by the way. For earlier. I know it was hard for you, too.”

They don’t ask each other about Mount Weather. Raven knows enough of his story over distorted voices over the radio and Clarke’s relieved face, and Bellamy can see hers in the footage from the mountain’s control room and her heavy limp. “They drilled in the right fucking leg,” is all he’s heard from her on the matter, and he knows better than to press. But they talk about everything from the weather to the cafeteria food to Octavia teaching the kids how to throw knives. He tells her about Octavia and she talks about Finn. It’s nice and warm and comforting, and Bellamy knows Kane will be asking after them and the camp will be abuzz with their sudden disappearance, but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s nice talking with someone who understands. For a while, he can come to terms with how deeply he misses her.

From this distance, Bellamy thinks it would be easy to kiss Raven. She’s beautiful, brown hair and doe eyes and legs to next week, and he’s caught her looking at him enough times that he’s certain it wouldn’t exactly be unwelcome, but he knows better now than to think it’ll help, remembers -- _did it help? no_ \-- and instead puts his arm around her, lets her burrow into his side.

“Clarke will be back.” Raven’s voice is small, and Bellamy’s heart breaks a little to remember her fiery confidence. “She has to come back.”

“She will,” Bellamy says, although he’s less sure the more he says it.

“Why didn’t you follow her?” she asks suddenly. “Monty told me that he saw you guys talking back then. Said you watched her leave. I thought--”

“She asked me to stay,” he says, his thumb tracing circles into her shoulder. “To take care of you guys for her.” _I would have dropped it all in a heartbeat_ , he thinks dully. _I would have followed her to the ends of the earth if she’d let me_. He thinks of her face, and then doesn’t.

“S’ok, Bells,” says Raven, tearing from his hug and sitting up straight. “I miss her, too. But she can’t possibly trust you enough to leave you in charge of this shithole for _that_ long.” Her smile is teasing, not accusatory, and he thinks it’s a nice change. He’s about to comment on it when her face turns serious again. “Jasper misses her, too,” she says. “I can tell. He still not talking to you?”

He shakes his head. “Might be easier for him, though.” It’s easier to forgive someone gone. Bellamy understands that well enough. (He can easily remember the moment he forgave his mother, and that was seeing Octavia smile for the first time on Earth.) But he knows that forgiveness for him and Monty might still be a long time coming.

“He’ll come round.” Raven smiles briefly.

“I go to the dropship sometimes,” he blurts out suddenly. “On off days. I know he goes there, too.”

“Lots of us do,” Raven says. It warms his heart to know she’s talking about their little band. “Sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. There’s talk of relocating there. Just us.” She’s looking at him again, and Bellamy knows what she’s asking. For a brief moment, it’s tempting -- Camp Jaha has never felt like home, has never felt like something Bellamy fought tooth and nail for. But he imagines moving back there, population halved and without Clarke, and it feels hollow, lonely.

He shakes his head without a second thought. “She asked me to stay,” he repeats. “I’d like to be here when she comes back.”

She nods, understanding. “She’s lucky to have you. I know you miss her.”

“So much,” he admits. "Feels like it burns." It’s the first time he says it out loud. Raven takes his hand and squeezes and doesn’t say anything. He knows she knows how it feels. 

(132)

 “I knew her, y’know,” Miller says, looking distant. “In Alpha. When we were kids. She was in my year at school.” He doesn’t even have to say who _she_ is; there’s only one girl that’s at the edges of their consciousness at all times.

Bellamy is quiet. They trudge around the perimeter of the Ark, and he gazes at it -- Alpha, gone with all the rest, the only home they’d ever known before falling. He looks the cold, unforgiving metal of Camp Jaha, and thinks of _home_. He remembers Miller’s father had been Chief Guard. “What was she like?” he finally asks. He needs more memories of Clarke than that of a tired girl trying to hold it together.

“She was always smart,” says Miller. There’s a small smile on his face. “ _Major_ daddy’s girl. She was always doodling. Didn’t talk much, except to Wells.” Bellamy flinches; he hasn’t heard anyone speak Wells’s name aloud in a long time. Miller seems to catch this, and he glances at Bellamy. “Both of them were, really. Lookin’ back, I guess they were always kinda lonely.”

The Bellamy of six months ago would have sneered and said they had a fat lot to be lonely about. But he imagines two councillors’ small children, who would have faced people like Bellamy their entire lives. He imagines Clarke at four, small hands holding a pencil for the first time, a nervous smile.

The Bellamy of six months ago didn’t know shit.

“Were you there when her dad was floated?”

Miller shakes his head. He looks older, tired. Strangely, Bellamy finds he misses the beanie on him. “I was already in lockup, but I heard about it.” They trudge in silence for a while until they reach the group of new shooters, their faces young and bright. “Think she’ll be back?”

This time, Bellamy shrugs and winces at the strange way his heart squeezes. He tells Miller what he’s told himself so many times before. “I hope so.”

 (100)

It’s a long time before he’s able to broach the subject with Octavia. When he finally does over dinner, in one of the rare moments she’s out of Lincoln’s arms, she just shrugs and tosses her hair over her shoulder. She hasn’t put it in braids and hasn’t painted her face since the mountain fell. He likes it better this way -- it makes her look younger and more peaceful.

“It’s okay now, I guess,” she says after mulling it over. “I thought I’d never forgive her for helping you torture Lincoln,” she admits, not looking at him. “But then that stupid virus, and I did. Both of you. Then I thought I’d never forgive her for leaving Monty and Jasper and everyone else in Mount Weather. Then I thought I’d never forgive her for trusting Lexa and dropping the bomb on Tondc. I am almost _died_ .” She says nothing for a while. Bellamy watches her eyes harden at the mention of a reopened wound. “And I thought I’d never _ever_ forgive her for killing all the Mountain Men.”

“ _We_ killed the Mountain Men.” Bellamy’s watching the firelight dance shadows around her face. He wonders if, in another life, he’d hate Clarke for dropping the bomb -- but he’s too far gone at this point.

Octavia shoots him a wry smile, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “But I did.” She plays with the ends of her hair, a gesture so girlish it makes his heart hurt. “I could have _died_ because of that bomb, but I didn’t. And I’d _definitely_ would have died if she -- sorry, you guys didn’t do what you did. So thanks, I guess.” She looks away, her eyes thumbing her handle of the blade at her side.

“You know I’d do anything to protect you.” He’s told her this a thousand times, but the routine familiarity is soothing. He expects a retort of not needing his protection, but what she says next surprises even him.

“And Clarke, right?” She looks him in the eye, watches his jaw drop a bit. “C’mon, big bro, you’re not very subtle.” Bellamy thinks briefly that being set on fire right then and there would be a better experience, but Octavia’s speaking again. “You know what I said to her before you found us, back in Mount Weather? That she wasn’t doing enough.” She’s biting her lip, and there are tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “And then she -- she did it. She sacrificed so much just so we could be here.”

“Octavia --”

Hurriedly, she wipes her eyes. “A warrior doesn’t mourn the people she loses until the battle is over. She’s just mourning, big bro.” Her voice is steady again. “Don’t beat yourself up for not convincing her to stay. She needs this.” A pause. “She needs you, too.”

Warmth blooms in his chest, and for the first time he laughs a little. “Nice, little sis,” he says. “When did you get so smart?” 

(67)

In the winter it becomes too difficult to stay in the dropship for extended periods of time, and he forgoes the visits in favor of ensuring everybody’s set for the cold. But one day he finds himself with nothing to do, and so he takes the 20-mile trek through the cold woods. He expects to find cold, quiet halls and snow covering the charred earth, creating the illusion of peace. Instead, he finds Jasper at the entrance, sitting in front of a fire. He looks up as soon as he sees Bellamy and his eyes widen. “What are you doing here?” he mutters, and Bellamy can tell he’s struggling to keep his voice low.

Lightly, he says, “Sorry to interrupt your brooding.” More seriously, “It’s been some time since I was here.”

Jasper’s mouth tightens, and he looks down briefly. “She would’ve been eighteen today,” he whispers. It’s accusing, but also very tired. Bellamy feels the stab of regret, remembers Maya telling him she’d help as clear as day. He nods and sits down next to him.

She didn’t have to die,” Jasper says, his breath coming out in puffs in the cold air.

Bellamy wants to repeat that _they never would have stopped_ , that _it was for the greater good_ , but he of all people knows that love could be more important than everyone else’s wellbeing, and he is _so_ tired of this argument. _Love is a weakness_ echoes again and he shoves it to the back of his head. Instead, he runs a hand through his hair and says, “I’m sorry.”

Jasper looks surprised at this, and his jaw slackens for a second. It’s clear he didn’t expect Bellamy to say that.  

“I still see her sometimes,” he admits.

“Me too,” says Bellamy slowly. The winter sun is bright outside. “Her, and Wells, and Charlotte, and Atom, and Roma. Sterling. Fox. Everyone.” He gives a lopsided smile he doesn’t fully mean. “Finn.” Jasper’s leg jerks. “Sorry I didn’t tell you about him,” he adds, softer this time.

Jasper shrugs. “I got the details soon enough.” His gaze hardens for a brief moment. “I didn’t think that -- Finn, that person, who shot all those people -- didn’t really seem like something he’d do. But it was, and--Clarke--” he trails off.

“Jasper,” says Bellamy very slowly, “Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things.”

He looks at Bellamy then, and Bellamy can see the tears slipping down his cheeks. “I - I know why you did it,” he tells Bellamy in between choked sobs. “But I can’t -- I just can’t -- I know that Clarke _saved_ me. From the very beginning, from the Grounders.” He looks away. Bellamy remembers that time. Jasper getting speared had been the least of their problems, in hindsight. “And she _saved_ our people, but…” He trails off and full-on breaks down, burying his face in his hands to keep the tears from spilling.

“Hey,” Bellamy says after a while. It hurts to think of Clarke, of raw desperation and tears threatening to spill down, but -- what would she do? “Clarke -- she would have wanted you to be happy,” he says. “Maya would have, too. And if that happiness doesn’t include forgiving us, then that’s fine. Just...make sure it wasn’t all for nothing.” Tentatively, he puts a hand on Jasper’s shoulder and squeezes.

Jasper nods hurriedly. They sit like that until the fire goes out and the sun goes down. They don’t talk on the way back to camp, but he supposes that it’s a start.

 _She saved you back then_ , he muses, _but she saved me too._  

(23)

Octavia tells him news that’s been passed along Grounder messengers -- that Clarke, _heda_ of the Sky People, has made it to the Sikru. Her eyes are bright as she says this -- _imagine, Bell, the_ ocean! -- and he tries to share her excitement. But as soon as she turns to chat up someone else, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Clarke, walking the earth. Clarke, going on adventures without him. Clarke, meeting new people and learning new things and not needing him. Clarke, building homes with strangers, not coming home to her _family_.

Life goes on.

In the morning Bellamy teaches the younger kids how to shoot and to throw knives straight. In the afternoon he argues political strategy with Kane and Abby in the chancellor’s quarters. At dinner Jasper joins him and Monty and Octavia and Raven and Miller, and there’s laughter. Raven’s hand is in Wick’s the whole time. In the evening he takes a night shift with the guard and stands watch at the gate in case she might return, but it’s easier now. He thinks of the ocean, vast blue mass that it was from space, and wonders what it might look like on the ground. _I hope you had fun there, Clarke_ , he thinks. _For us._ He imagines her laughing in the water, the droplets creating jewels in her hair.

He’s forgiven her, he thinks, for leaving. It did not take much (it never did with her) but the hurt that entrenches his chest at the thought of her has lightened now, and the desperate need to see her blonde hair and blue eyes and hear her voice has mostly abated. For the first time, he thinks he’ll be okay without her. 

(0)

When she finally does come back, it’s a completely ordinary day. He’s helping Monty prepare herbs for the vegetable garden now that the ground has thawed before he hears shouts coming from the gate. He gestures to Monty to be careful, and he stalks towards the gate, his hand at his gun.  

Miller, at the gate, is the first to spot her walking up the path. He yells her name and the camp freezes for a split second. And before he knows it Bellamy drops the gun and starts running towards the gate as fast as his legs can carry him, his chest burning at the familiar gleam of golden hair. Outside the camp, she throws her arms around Miller, who hugs her back. He draws back, pats her shoulder, and grins at Bellamy. “You were right, boss!” he calls, his smile wide.

For a moment, he and Clarke stare at each other. Her hair is longer, now in a braid to her midback, and her skin is darker and there’s a scar running down the side of her face, but her eyes are clear and her teary smile is _real_ , and before he can process anything he’s running towards her and throwing his arms around her. Clarke stiffens for a moment, her hands at her side -- but she hugs him back just as tightly, and he can feel the furious beat of her heart through his chest.

“ _Clarke_ ,” he says, and it sounds whole, and hopeful, like salvation. “Welcome back, Princess.”

“Hey, Bellamy,” she murmurs, and he thinks that he could listen to her breathlessly saying his name for the rest of his life. “I think I’ll have that drink,” she whispers into his shoulder. Bellamy wants to laugh and cry at the same time. There are more shouts in the background; he’s vaguely aware of Miller yelling for someone to tell Abby and of Monty and Raven approaching, but he can’t bring himself to care. He kisses the top of her head, then her cheek, murmuring her name over and over. She smells like grass and rain.

“I thought you wouldn’t come back,” he admits out loud for the first time. It feels silly, now, to even think of it.

Clarke dips her head, her nose touching his clavicle. “I thought so too,” she whispers, “But I couldn’t stay away.” They break apart, and Clarke’s genuinely crying now, and Bellamy wants nothing more than to kiss her tears off her cheeks, but instead he holds out his hand. There would be time for that later, just as there would be time for talking with Abby and telling stories about her travels and dinners around campfires and reconciliation and forgiveness.

She takes his proffered hand and laces their fingers together. They enter Camp Jaha together, and for the first time Bellamy feels like he’s coming home.

* * *

Your kiss, my cheek, I watched you leave  
Your smile, my ghost, I fell to my knees  
When you're young you just run  
But you come back to what you need

 _\--_ This Love, Taylor Swift

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I am 100% Bellarke shipper trash.
> 
> The part that fucks me up the most about 2x16 Bellarke isn’t the goodbye but the part where the couples enter Camp Jaha and BELLAMY WAITS BECAUSE HE WANTS TO WALK IN WITH CLARKE GOODBYEEEEE.
> 
> Title from "To Build a Home" by the Cinematic Orchestra. I almost titled it from Taylor Swift's "This Love," but I want to maintain some degree of artistic hipsterness.


End file.
